Page 4 of Daddy's Little Patient

She sniffed. “We’ll talk about it in the car.”

That was Kelly for ‘I hate it when you’re right, so I’m going to ignore the comment.’

Eventually, the nurse came with a wheelchair. “Hey, you’re finally getting out, huh?”

“Thank God!” Kelly’s relief was palpable, but when she approached the wheelchair, she walked like a much older woman, her back hunched, her step uncertain. He got up as she stepped between the footrests, offering a steadying arm and a stern stare. She ignored the latter, but accepted the former, lowering herself with a wince and a sigh into the chair.

A flash of sympathy went through him. She must be sore. He’d been rear-ended once. Nothing serious, but the whiplash had lasted more than a week and affected his neck, back, shoulders, chest, even his stomach. Every muscle, he supposed, that had tightened up before the impact of the crash.

“I’m fine,” she said, though neither he nor the nurse had said anything. She hugged her casts to her chest, gingerly relaxing into the uncomfortable chair. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll run ahead and get the truck,” he said, anxious to get her safely home.

The nurse nodded. “We’ll meet you at the front entrance.”

“See you soon,” he promised Kelly, gently cupping her shoulder. He left the room, rushing for the elevator in long-legged strides, digging the keys from his jeans pocket.

It took longer to remember where he’d parked the truck than it did to fetch it, and true to his word, he was soon pulling up to the curb where the nurse and Kelly were waiting. He was prepared to pick her up if necessary, but in true Kelly form, she refused all help and crawled up onto the passenger side of the bench seat all on her own. When she fumbled trying to catch hold of the seatbelt between her thumb and second finger, however, he stepped in.

“I can do it myself!” she insisted, but her face seemed drawn and pale.

“You were told to let your hands heal. That means you don’t do it yourself, whether or not you think you can.” He buckled her in with a hard stare that she refused to meet and shut the passenger door on her huffy pout.

The nurse handed him Kelly’s bag—wallet, keys, the remnants of all her cut off clothes—before bidding them goodbye and taking the wheelchair back inside. Hopping into the truck behind the steering wheel, he started the engine.

“All right,” he began as he pulled out of the drive-thru, but she immediately rolled her head toward the window.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she informed him, closing her eyes. “You want me to rest? Fine. I’m resting. So hush and let me sleep.”

He’d never been put in a position like this before but knew what his gut was telling him, and it wasn’t ‘take her home and drop her off.’

“I’m not asking you to talk, but I am going to make you decide.”

She stole a sideways peek at him from beneath her hair. “Decide what?”

“My place or yours,” he said simply. “I don’t care how fine you say you are. Your doctor wants you supervised, and I trust hima lot more than I trust you at the moment. Until I know you can take care of yourself, I’m not leaving your side.”

“Are you freaking serious?”

“As serious as a car crash,” he retorted and that shut her up for as long as it took to ease out of the parking lot. “So?”

“So what?” she muttered, picking at the plastic webbing of one cast.

“So do you want to do your recovering at my place or yours?” he repeated patiently. “I need to know before I get to the freeway.”

“I’ll go to mine, you’ll go to yours. I don’t need a babysitter, Cole!” she added in a frustrated rush. “I just need some peace and quiet and a comfortable bed that doesn’t come with pinchy blood pressure cuffs, beepy things and rattling carts every fifteen minutes. And do you have any idea what it’s like to not be allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself?”

“Did you forget I served on a submarine for six years?” he asked incredulously.

She scowled, undaunted. “But I bet they let you wipe your own butt.”

“Occasionally, as a reward for good maneuvers. Look, Kelly, this is not up for discussion. You are under doctor’s orders and since you’ve made it spanking clear that you don’t intend to follow those orders, someone else has to step up and make sure you get the care you need. Now, for the third and last time, your place or mine?”

She let a frosty silence fill the space between them until the freeway was almost upon them, but then caved and muttered, “Mine.”

“Good girl,” Cole said and for a time, that was all he said. He would have been more comfortable at his place, but his comfort was not the priority here. Kelly needed her own bed more thanhe needed his, along with the support of her plushies, some soul-nourishing cookies and cartoons, and, of course, her Daddy.

And by God, she was going to get it, whether she liked it or not.

---